


Requiem

by Ursula



Category: White Collar
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-31
Updated: 2010-01-31
Packaged: 2017-10-06 21:10:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ursula/pseuds/Ursula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal loses a new friend</p>
            </blockquote>





	Requiem

Title: Requiem

Author: Ursula

Rating: rating: R

Genre and/or Pairing: Peter/Neal friendship

Notes: Need to get a terrible event out of my head. Sorry.

Spoilers: not many except for series general facts

Warnings: Minor Character Death, a senseless violent act

Word Count:

Summary: Why was Diana replaced and what happened to her?

 

OooOooO

The first night at June's, Neal left the lights on. He realized as he stared at the stucco ceiling that he was waiting for Monroe, chubby friendly night guard, to gently remind him to turn off the dangling bulb that served as his lamp. Waking, Neal hesitated at the door to the guest bathroom as if trying to assure himself that no predators lurked beyond.

The long hot shower was not enough to wash the scent of prison from his pores. He felt as if he was a shambling clown wearing Neal-skin. He had thought it would be easy to leave four years behind. It wasn't. Prison weighed on him even in this beautiful and comfortable home.

The next morning, Neal was happy enough when Peter arrived and they worked that first case. At the end of the case, Neal was fascinated by his picture in the FBI identification, liking to flip it open when Peter wasn't looking to think about what it meant. Neal believed he could make this work.

Neal liked Peter and Diana was kinder than she seemed. The probie FBI agent showed Neal the ropes and smoothed over the rough places when some of the Peter's comrades at the FBI set out to torment Neal.

With the Dutchman put away, Peter had case reports on which to work and legal staffings to attend which did not include a felon in tow. He turned Neal over to Diana and told her to make Neal work.

Diana brought Neal interesting case files and seemed to find it amusing what Neal could read between the lines.

Neal was fascinated by the glimpses of how Peter Burke thought when he read the solved cases. He knew the agent was intelligent, but he was somewhat of a prodigy. Neal knew more than ever that his opponent was the worthy one and he flattered himself that he made Peter work the hardest few years of his career to catch him.

With the open cases, Neal was even more intrigued and a bit competitive with Peter. He made some notes for Peter regarding the unsolved cases, smiling as he imagined Peter reading them.

When he was not perusing files, Neal made himself useful to Diana, running errands and being charming. He may not have been on her dance card, but she warmed to him after the first week. She liked that he really didn't care about her sexuality. She didn't ask Neal about his own preferences which were a lot more open to possibilities than Peter Burke knew.

One thing that Peter, Diana, and Neal all enjoyed was good coffee and the sandwich shop two blocks down had great coffee. They were in the habit of stopping there for lunch or for an after work snack. It became an almost daily ritual and Neal found himself looking forward to it by the third week out of prison.

There was an outside table they favored. Sometimes other FBI employees grabbed the table first since this was a popular hangout for law enforcement types. If they could get it, they always sat there. Today they had been lucky and Neal sprawled in his white wrought iron seat, feet extended into the aisle.

Diana leaned forward and whispered, "Neal, your anklet is showing."

Peter smirked at that and said, "He likes showing it off like an engagement ring to let the world know he's mine."

At Diana's hearty laughter, Peter blushed and said, "Uh, can I retract that statement?"

"What and make me sue you for breach of promise?" Neal said.

The sun broke through the overcast sky and shone on them. Neal thought it was a near perfect day and it wasn't over yet. In prison, you could never relax and Neal had been cautious of making friends. He knew what he looked like and he knew that he could not assume that common every day pleasantries were not hidden moves to lure him into coercive relationships.

The guards liked him and Neal cultivated that to enjoy their protectiveness. Wooing the jaded men to like him was good practice for his present situation where his freedom depended on a cop's pleasure, Peter's pleasure, as it was.

This though, these daily breaks were so much better than Neal expected. Neal liked Peter and Diana. They were bright and they treated him nicely. He liked that they touched him and he didn't have to worry about why. In prison, Neal never experienced a kindly human contact and he missed friendly interaction terribly. Neal was someone who enjoyed touching and being touched, and it had been very difficult to endure isolation for damn near four years of his life.

Neal admitted to himself that he liked Peter more than he should, given the man was married and to a very beautiful woman. It made Neal like Diana even more because she was safe territory. They teased each other like siblings. She, as Peter, said, wanted to wear his hat. It became a game for her to snatch it and wear it for a few moments. Neal tried to guard it, but sometimes it was more fun to give in and let her steal it. He thought that this playfulness with Diana was what it must be like to have a sister and he enjoyed these moments more than he should.

Neal looked up as the shambling thick set black man paused a few feet away, but the guy seemed to be reaching into his pocket for change and he was in front of a news stand so that made sense.

Lunging, Neal almost got his hat back. Peter's chuckle spurred them on and Diana rose from her chair to keep Neal's beloved DeVore hat. She was still laughing when the bullet hit. She staggered backwards as Peter stopped chuckling and pulled his gun out. Neal caught her and instinctively shielded her as he dropped to shelter behind the overturned table. Peter fired twice.

Neal grabbed a handful of paper napkins and pressed them to Diana's chest. Her eyes were so big, so startled.

"It's gonna be all right. You'll be all right," Neal said, over and over again.

Peter scuttled out, kicking the man's gun away, before checking his pulse.

Neal was a peaceful man, but he hoped the guy was dead. Peter called 911 as someone gave Neal a white clean towel to add to the paper napkins which were bright red, sodden with scarlet hue. The sounds Diana made, the choking, the gasping, the coughs that sent blood flying everywhere horrified Neal. He felt that he was drowning in her blood. It was all over his hands. It was on his face, but he could not ease his pressure against Diana's wound to wipe it away.

The sirens seemed so far away. The world was narrowed to his friend's face. Her eyes were clouding. Diana stopped choking. There was a final wet sound and Neal said, "Someone help her breathe."

OooOooO

Neal didn't remember lifting his hands away. He just remembered Peter's hands flying over him and Peter's eyes worried as he asked, "Are you shot, Neal?"

It was all Diana's blood. Neal really thought it was the entire volume of her blood and she seemed deflated as they carried her away.

Peter drove Neal with him to the hospital after the scene was secured. Neal wouldn't go with anyone else, not even with Jones. He huddled under a blanket that Peter wrapped around him. He shook and he shook and he shook.

Uniformed police took Neal's statement and then Peter took him to June's. Peter was wordless and his face was pale except for droplets of blood painted across it. Neal thought Peter blamed him and kept saying he was sorry.

"There's nothing you could have done," Peter finally said. "Come on. Let's get this stuff off you. Neal, snap out of it."

Peter's kind hands undressed him, guided Neal into the shower, and held him up as the hot water pelted down.

"I'm getting you all wet," Neal said.

"It's okay," Peter said.

"Why?" Neal asked, "Why her?"

Peter hit the wall hard and said, "I don't know. I just don't know."

Dressed, Neal begged, "Don't leave me here alone. June is out of town. I can't stay here. Not tonight."

OooOooO

Elizabeth took over when Peter and Neal walked in the door. Neal was put to bed in the guest room with Satchmo to anchor him from the grief that threatened to wash him away. Unable to sleep, Neal could hear Peter's voice talking long into the night. Just before morning, Neal heard Peter cry. The sounds were raw from Peter's throat, ripped from his strong chest. Neal could hear Elizabeth's kind voice and he followed it down to a brief rest before he woke screaming and Satchmo was barking and Peter was in the room, waving his gun around.

Neal was not sure who took him to sleep in the marital bed; only that he woke curled against Peter's back with Elizabeth's arm over both of them.

And Neal fell in love with both of them just a little. Okay, a lot when he realized how kind they were and how much trust they gave him unearned.

Neal promised himself that he would never hurt them. Never. He worried how he would keep this vow and it made his throat tighten with the fear that he could not save Kate and also make good on this silent pledge.

OooOooO

The funeral was somber. Neal had not known that Diana had served in Iraq. Her coffin was draped in a flag. They played taps. There was a funeral procession that went for blocks. Law enforcement agents came from far away to mourn their own.

During the service, Neal kept thinking about Peter and that it could have been him. He wonders how Elizabeth could stand it, seeing him leave each day and feeling the fear that it would be the last time.

Senseless was the word of the day. The murdering bastard who shot Diana was a mad man who should have been locked away for life. He had molested his ten year old niece. He had slit a guard's throat in prison. He suffered from religious delusions and he had left a long rambling letter about god telling him to kill FBI agents. He had two other guns and, if Peter had not shot him, he would have made that street run with blood.

At the gravesite, there was a solemn procession; people left gifts as well as dropping symbolic handfuls of dirt. Diana's last girl friend dropped white roses with rainbow ribbons. Jones carefully laid his own favorite tie on the wreath covered wood of the coffin. Peter left a copy of the recommendation he had written to Diana's next post.

Neal hung back, worried that people would resent his presence, associate him with the man who killed his friend instead of accepting him as one of their own. Elizabeth would not let Neal forgo this final farewell. She took his hand and led him to the graveside with her. Tears fell from his eyes unchecked. His hat was in his hand and then it sailed one last time to the coffin. It always looked better on Diana anyway.

Peter and Elizabeth took Neal home with them again where he stayed until comfort and kindness scabbed over the rawness of his grief.

OooOooO

A few days later, there was a new hat on the desk that Peter had assigned to Neal. It was as beautiful as the first one and fit perfectly. Neal looked up at the glass walled office, saw Peter nod, and he adjusted the hat to shade his eyes.

And Neal wondered how he would ever leave this behind if he did find Kate.

The tracker was heavy on his ankle, but the trust and the affection… ah that was the heaviest chain of all.

The end


End file.
